


Growing

by katrani



Category: Thrilling Intent (Web Series)
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Drabbles, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Hope spot, backstory speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-07-11 10:11:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7044148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katrani/pseuds/katrani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles and ficlets about Ashe's potential past. Tags to be added as needed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Companion

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of this is me projecting, and bound to become non-canon at some point, but it works as ventfic and I'm kind of proud of a lot of it. Some chapters might be contradictory, because I was experimenting with interpretations.

The first thing she remembers is a companion. No words are shared between them, because she wouldn’t understand, but it comforts her. It hums to her, deep as her bones and warm as her own breath. It appears around her whenever she’s hurt, softer than it would be later in life when she calls on it. Less rock and more moss. She always welcomes it, and wants it to stay longer.

When she’s a little older, it whispers to her, fresh rain in her mind that washes everything else away. _“Aesling, tiny Aesling, don’t you want to play? Don’t you want to see wonderful things?”_ And she calls on it, trusting it. It’s part of herself, after all, as much as her body and her heart and her memory. She summons it forth, and lets it carry her higher into the trees than anyone could hope to climb. High enough that she feels dizzy from the air and can see the sea stretching out even further than the forest, both so expansive that she can barely comprehend them.

That’s the first time she’s scolded. Father says she can’t, that it’s irresponsible. She has to ask him what that means. That jolts him out of his anger, and makes him see her for the child she is. He tells her, slowly, uncertainly, that she can’t use those powers. It’s something that will eat her up and consume her, take away her humanity until there’s nothing left.

She runs from him, into the woods. The other townsfolk try to catch her, but she asks her friend for help. Energy pours into her body, charged like the air before a storm. Even with her short legs she manages to make it under the trees, and then no one can catch her. The wood and soil bend to her will, with the help of her friend, and help hide her. It can’t be right- her friend’s always there to help her, from the tiniest scrape to the biggest dare, and she can’t imagine that it would hurt her.

She doesn’t let them find her until Father’s calling out apologies in his searches. Only then does she appear, and let him carry her home. He tries to make her promise not to use her powers, but she won’t abandon her friend. Eventually Father gives up, and merely says that she’ll understand when she’s older.

A few years later, she does.

The other children are running around the street, playing tag. Ashe sits on a crate against a building, confused. Why put in so much effort in chasing only to be chased a second later? She says as much.

“It’s fun!” one of the boys insists. “C’mon, don’t you wanna play?”

She shakes her head. She played with them yesterday, and only felt tired from it all. Maybe a bit of happiness, in having more friends, but nothing from the game itself.

“Aw, just leave her!” a girl says, stopping just long enough to grab the boy’s shoulder. “She’s always boring anyways.”

Ashe bites her lip, but stays there until the game’s done. Once everyone else has gone home, she stands and heads into the woods. She needs time to think.

 _“Why don’t we go into the sky? Where no one can bother us,”_ her friend whispers in her head.

“I’d rather not,” she says. “It’s better to be around the trees.”

_“True, but it’s almost sunset. Wouldn’t it be lovely?”_

“Go yourself. I just want to think.”

 _“You can think in the sky, with me holding you up.”_ It’s always eager, but now there’s something else there. It almost sounds hungry.

“I don’t want to!” Ashe shouts. Some birds startle out of a nearby bush, and she sighs. She knows she could just think at it, but talking out loud seems more fitting. Easier for her to keep things separate. “Just leave me alone.”

_“But dear Aesling, we’re always together.”_

“Because of these, right?” She touches the blue lines on her arms, at her throat. Father’s started to explain some of why she has them, but most of it is beyond her still. She stops, her blood suddenly running cold. “Why don’t you go to the sky yourself?”

_“I want you to come with me.”_

“No. You want…” Things finally click into place. “You want to take me up there. You can’t do anything without my permission, can you?” Bindings, that’s what Father calls the lines. It makes sense now. “And you- if I use you enough, you get more of me. That’s why I can’t have fun like the other kids.”

Her companion sighs, a sensation that rumbles through Ashe like thunder. _“You just had to be a smart one, didn’t you.”_

“You’ve just been _using_ me!” She reaches for the bindings, an energy that’s always buzzed around her. She never relies on it, because why should she with her friend? But now she sees it all. It fulfilled her every want, gave her so much that others couldn’t, just so she would never force it to leave her alone. She won’t have it anymore; she reels the bindings in, ice and steel and all the things she hates the feel of, and starts wrapping them around herself.

 _“What are you doing? I’m a part of you, don’t you see? You’ll never be able to survive without me.”_ Even as it tries to persuade her, the voice is higher-pitched, suddenly afraid. It’s losing it’s calm, the solid comfort that made Ashe trust it from the beginning.

The frightful magic snaps into place for the first time. Ashe winces, because it does feel like some part of her suddenly went numb. She looks around, and realizes that she can’t feel the pulse of the woods around her as strongly. But in its place is the wind over her skin, something she usually ignores, an insignificant sensation, now a refreshing delight. She pulls more of the bindings around herself, feeling it like so many aches and cramps but also like a fright and cry that makes her feel calmer afterwards.

The other being screams in pain and rage. _“You can’t! You can’t you can’t you can’t!”_ But then it realizes she’s not stopping, and growls. _“You’ll see, just like all the others. You need me, tiny Aesling. Dear, sweet, helpless Aesling. Something will come along that you need my help with. We could’ve been friends, I would’ve left enough of you to share this fragile body until you let me have my own. But now I think I’ll devour all of you, just like I devoured each of your ancestors. One of you will end before passing me on, and I think there’s a good chance it’ll be you.”_ It laughs at her, the noise suddenly cutting off as the last binding slides into place.

Ashe feels cold. She shivers, and turns towards home. She has to apologize to Father for not listening. Her thoughts are in a whirl, wondering how she didn’t realize before, and how much of herself is already lost. They pound through her head, almost too loud in the absence of her friend.

No, not friend- her _prisoner,_ she corrects herself. Her own monstrous self, trapped inside. Ready to destroy her. She would just have to never, ever let it out again.


	2. Choice

She didn’t have a sad childhood, not really. She didn’t want for anything. Or if she did, it wasn’t enough to justify saying anything, not when her father had so many worries already on his plate. She threw herself into what she was supposed to do, learning and behaving and always putting others before herself.

And she liked that, she liked making others happy! But it felt so empty at times too, like she didn’t exist beyond fulfilling expectations. She started wanting more things, more opportunities, yet the words stuck in her throat. Everyone always told her that they’d give her anything, but if she even tried to ask for something it was given half-heartedly; she felt she was a burden, nothing more than a tool needing more and more upkeep.

She could never pinpoint when the thought of leaving creeped in. It was just there one day, but she smashed it down, pushed it to the back of her mind. She couldn’t, there was too much to do here, this was the only place she knew how to be. But it would come back every so often, a thought that seemed so appealing even while its presence twisted her stomach in knots from stress. She was cared for here! Everyone loved her! She had food and shelter and clothing, how could she ever be so unappreciative as to leave?

She should’ve expected things to snap. She threw away too many of her desires, and suddenly they all bubbled up at once, refusing to be cast off again. There was screaming, and dishes being thrown, and curses spat between family. Fury pounded through her blood and frustration stung her eyes; why couldn’t she explain properly, why couldn’t they understand?

But it was too late, she left in a flurry and silence, determined to never come crawling back. She could make her own life, find a home that made her welcome instead of a utility. A family and friends of her own choosing, out of the whole world instead of just her tiny hometown.

She took her first breaths of air outside those walls, saw the horizon without bounds, and finally _knew_ she made a right choice. Impulsive though it was, this was her own decision, and one she could finally be proud of. She’d still wake up, months down the line with an ache in her heart and a yearning for what she was used to, her pulse anxiously quick as she thought of everyone she’d abandoned. In those moments, she just looked around at her new friends, remembered their selfless risks for her and the teamwork even during fights, no expectations or needling for a favor, and knew _this_ was home, and that she owed nothing to the people who made reciprocating her care into a chore.

And she knew, without the slightest doubt or hesitation, she’d always choose this ragtag bunch over what she’d been born into.


	3. Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to do a quick thing hinting at trans!Ashe. Not sure if this is gonna be in my actual permanent headcanons, but I like how it turned out.

The sky was dark, as cloudy as she could’ve hoped for. She doused the fireplace in her room, wincing but not crying out when she impatiently grabbed for the log before it cooled. She scraped off some of the burnt areas, and used the dirt to cover her pale skin, her shock of white hair. There was nothing to be done about her golden eyes, but hopefully no one would find such tiny pinpricks odd in a forest full of wildcats and owls.  
  
Her preparations complete, she grabbed her pack and threw her window open. She took a deep breath, staring at the ground two floors below. _Now or never_ , she thought, and turned around so she could lower herself as far as possible  before dropping.  
  
She gasped as she hit the ground, her leg crumpling painfully beneath her. Trying not to whimper in pain, she called on the burden that was her magic, healing the muscle and bone.  
  
Then she was up and running, before the night sentries walked their rounds and spotted her. Off the path, between houses, across a meadow where it felt like her heart was pounding enough to be an alarm all on its own, and then finally- blessedly- into the trees.  
  
Here she slowed a little. She knew the paths, knew the roots that might trip her, the rocks that might give way underfoot, but caution was key now. She only had _this_ chance, nothing more.  
  
Suddenly a light came into view, around a think clump of trees. She threw her hand up against the lantern flame, giving the guard a moment to look her over.  
  
“What’re you doing out here, lad?” He asked, holding the light up to get a better view. “Wait, you’re- the Guardian! Sir, it’s-”  
  
Before he could call out to anyone else or start telling her off, she used the short sword she’d stolen from the town’s storehouse to knock him out. She hit him in the chest with the pommel to stun him, and when he doubled over in pain, she struck his head. He fell, and she doused his lantern before continuing. She had no need for light, not in her own forest.  
  
She met with no more incidents on her way to the docks. She had to be careful, knowing the Alaranni ship and its treasures would be well-guarded. But these folk were used to cities, to straight lines and structure. It was easy for her to find ways to hide from them in the chaos that was the mostly-private docks. No carefully-stacked merchant shipments here, only haphazard piles of netting and rope that would be claimed before folk went out fishing in the morning, and the skeletons of market booths that would be open in the afternoon.  
  
It was even easier to sneak on-board than to get close. The guards were looking for people leaving, after all, not people arriving. She found a hiding spot, deep in the holds, and prepared to wait.  
  
Later, when she set foot on a shore she hadn’t known for years, one that made her marvel at its shape and the plantlife near the shallows and the odd shells she could see glistening among the sand, she was finally spotted.  
  
“Who’re you, lad?” the sailor asked, leaning lazily against the crates he’d been arranging.  
  
“Lass, actually,” she answered. Her words were careful, the unfamiliar syllables sticking on her tongue. “And I’m the Gu...” She stopped, tugging on her hair nervously. _No, that’s not right._ She wasn’t on Meathe anymore, she didn’t have to be that. But she had no fitting name anymore. She frowned, staring at her fingers, at the grey ashes that had rubbed off from her hair. What would be a better name than what helped her escape?  
  
“Call me Aesling.”


End file.
